Delayed reaction
Aug. 16th, 2003 01:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vaneramosYesterday on the phone Danny and I were comparing avoidance strategies and I described one of my particularly baffling and self-destructive mechanisms for deflecting conflict.
This morning, with my hands scrabbling through dishwater, I realized I had done it again.
The problem is, when someone crosses a line with me I frequently fail to perceive it until later. I notice half-consciously, but the facts take time to rise to the surface. I'm so concerned about maintaining peace, I repress emotional reactions that would lead to confrontation. Instead I meet the person's words or actions with indifference or mild approval.
The process of cognition might complete itself 24 hours later. It sometimes requires a casual reference from a friend, or an unrelated thought of my own. Something triggers my mind to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Suddenly, alone in the middle of my room, or while talking to an innocent party, I am angry.
In the past I often lost my temper this way. Recently, I have become more analytical, taking time to discern people's real motives. Usually when someone has taken advantage of me, it is out of carelessness rather than deliberate abuse. In any event, rage is rarely helpful in sorting things out. Inevitably, I have already contributed to the problem by not addressing it immediately.
As in the current situation. This time it took me five days to understand I had been cheated.
Here's what happened. This spring, when my parents offered to rent a car for me and my daughters during the summer, I called my usual rental company and asked for a monthly rate. As a frequent customer, they gave me an excellent deal. I spoke several times with a familiar agent, who I will call Naomi. She understood that keeping the price down was an important concern, and did everything she could to help. In the end it was clear they would charge me for a month to rent the car from July 11 to August 11. The day I picked up the car, they were short of budget models, so I received a free upgrade to a Pontiac Sunfire (four doors, a/c, power steering, power locks and CD player). Upgrades are another common perk for frequent customers.
Monday morning when I returned the car, Naomi was not in the office. When the woman at the counter figured out my bill, it totaled nearly 50 dollars more than I had expected. I noticed they had charged me for a month (30 days) plus a day.
I didn't say anything.
She noticed it, too, and seemed puzzled by it. "Sorry, I'm new here," she said, and went to check with another agent, who assured her it was correct. The charge to rent a mid-priced car for an extra day is 39 dollars. Plus tax, of course.
I paid the bill, undecided whether or not to tell my parents, walked out the door, and didn't give it another thought until this morning with my hands deep in washwater. I can't believe I didn't raise the question.
No, I do believe it. It's my habitual way of swallowing inconvenience and hardship so that people will like me.
But it isn't right. I don't know what happened. Maybe somebody who worked there thought I got too good a deal, or maybe it was an honest error. The thing to do is call them, hopefully talk to Naomi, and ask if they will correct it, maybe give me a credit on my next rental. They ought to, for a valued customer. Whether or not I actually have the guts to give them trouble over it is another matter. If their rates weren't so good, I would probably just switch companies.
This morning it brings to mind a much worse thing I let happen to me in 1996. It involved my first boyfriend. I have no inclination to protect this individual's privacy. He was the only abusive man I ever got involved with. His name was Jim.
I became deeply enchanted with this man who made love to me like no one had ever done before. He knew how to make me feel good. One night he worked me into a fit of ecstasy, then did something we had never discussed; he penetrated me without a condom. It felt wonderful and I didn't resist him.
To put it in perspective, I was 32, had only been having sex with men for the past six months, and no one had ever tried that move with me before. Jim was 40 and had been screwing guys for 20 years.
My reaction came the following evening, while I was driving. I pulled off the highway, found a pay phone, called him and told him I was coming over. He was on his way to bed and said he was too tired to see me. I said, "We have to talk." I went over and sat on the side of his bed while he ignored me. I told him I was angry that he had taken advantage of me that way. He grumbled, groaned and told me to come to bed with him. I said not after what happened.
Finally he woke up, started yelling at me, and told me I had no right to be angry at him, that I was the one to blame. He called me a sociopath.
It took me several weeks to get over my infatuation and recognize Jim's manipulation and destructive behaviour toward me. During that time we had unprotected sex several times. It would be hypocritical of me to suggest I have never had unprotected sex with anyone else. The problem with Jim was that he wouldn't take responsibility for his actions, he didn't respect my concerns, and he uncovered my vulnerability and took advantage of it. I certainly was culpable for letting him do it, but that didn't last long.
We dated for three months. After I broke up with Jim, he made harrassing phone calls for a few weeks until I threatened to press charges, then continued to stalk me occasionally for more than three years. That was when it sunk in, what an invasive and controlling person he was.
I have never made another misjudgment of character that bad, but I still have trouble saying no, which allows well-intentioned people to hurt me, too. It's difficult not to be passive when you don't listen to yourself. I think half the situations that should stir me to action get passed over and forgotten. Eventually they blend into the unsettled, confusing background of life.
I need to become less self-conscious, and more conscious of what is happening to me.
This morning, with my hands scrabbling through dishwater, I realized I had done it again.
The problem is, when someone crosses a line with me I frequently fail to perceive it until later. I notice half-consciously, but the facts take time to rise to the surface. I'm so concerned about maintaining peace, I repress emotional reactions that would lead to confrontation. Instead I meet the person's words or actions with indifference or mild approval.
The process of cognition might complete itself 24 hours later. It sometimes requires a casual reference from a friend, or an unrelated thought of my own. Something triggers my mind to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Suddenly, alone in the middle of my room, or while talking to an innocent party, I am angry.
In the past I often lost my temper this way. Recently, I have become more analytical, taking time to discern people's real motives. Usually when someone has taken advantage of me, it is out of carelessness rather than deliberate abuse. In any event, rage is rarely helpful in sorting things out. Inevitably, I have already contributed to the problem by not addressing it immediately.
As in the current situation. This time it took me five days to understand I had been cheated.
Here's what happened. This spring, when my parents offered to rent a car for me and my daughters during the summer, I called my usual rental company and asked for a monthly rate. As a frequent customer, they gave me an excellent deal. I spoke several times with a familiar agent, who I will call Naomi. She understood that keeping the price down was an important concern, and did everything she could to help. In the end it was clear they would charge me for a month to rent the car from July 11 to August 11. The day I picked up the car, they were short of budget models, so I received a free upgrade to a Pontiac Sunfire (four doors, a/c, power steering, power locks and CD player). Upgrades are another common perk for frequent customers.
Monday morning when I returned the car, Naomi was not in the office. When the woman at the counter figured out my bill, it totaled nearly 50 dollars more than I had expected. I noticed they had charged me for a month (30 days) plus a day.
I didn't say anything.
She noticed it, too, and seemed puzzled by it. "Sorry, I'm new here," she said, and went to check with another agent, who assured her it was correct. The charge to rent a mid-priced car for an extra day is 39 dollars. Plus tax, of course.
I paid the bill, undecided whether or not to tell my parents, walked out the door, and didn't give it another thought until this morning with my hands deep in washwater. I can't believe I didn't raise the question.
No, I do believe it. It's my habitual way of swallowing inconvenience and hardship so that people will like me.
But it isn't right. I don't know what happened. Maybe somebody who worked there thought I got too good a deal, or maybe it was an honest error. The thing to do is call them, hopefully talk to Naomi, and ask if they will correct it, maybe give me a credit on my next rental. They ought to, for a valued customer. Whether or not I actually have the guts to give them trouble over it is another matter. If their rates weren't so good, I would probably just switch companies.
This morning it brings to mind a much worse thing I let happen to me in 1996. It involved my first boyfriend. I have no inclination to protect this individual's privacy. He was the only abusive man I ever got involved with. His name was Jim.
I became deeply enchanted with this man who made love to me like no one had ever done before. He knew how to make me feel good. One night he worked me into a fit of ecstasy, then did something we had never discussed; he penetrated me without a condom. It felt wonderful and I didn't resist him.
To put it in perspective, I was 32, had only been having sex with men for the past six months, and no one had ever tried that move with me before. Jim was 40 and had been screwing guys for 20 years.
My reaction came the following evening, while I was driving. I pulled off the highway, found a pay phone, called him and told him I was coming over. He was on his way to bed and said he was too tired to see me. I said, "We have to talk." I went over and sat on the side of his bed while he ignored me. I told him I was angry that he had taken advantage of me that way. He grumbled, groaned and told me to come to bed with him. I said not after what happened.
Finally he woke up, started yelling at me, and told me I had no right to be angry at him, that I was the one to blame. He called me a sociopath.
It took me several weeks to get over my infatuation and recognize Jim's manipulation and destructive behaviour toward me. During that time we had unprotected sex several times. It would be hypocritical of me to suggest I have never had unprotected sex with anyone else. The problem with Jim was that he wouldn't take responsibility for his actions, he didn't respect my concerns, and he uncovered my vulnerability and took advantage of it. I certainly was culpable for letting him do it, but that didn't last long.
We dated for three months. After I broke up with Jim, he made harrassing phone calls for a few weeks until I threatened to press charges, then continued to stalk me occasionally for more than three years. That was when it sunk in, what an invasive and controlling person he was.
I have never made another misjudgment of character that bad, but I still have trouble saying no, which allows well-intentioned people to hurt me, too. It's difficult not to be passive when you don't listen to yourself. I think half the situations that should stir me to action get passed over and forgotten. Eventually they blend into the unsettled, confusing background of life.
I need to become less self-conscious, and more conscious of what is happening to me.
